Encounter
by fiction2 aka Rion
Summary: One of the Champions meets an unusual lady. COMPLETE


ENCOUNTER – by Fiction2 aka Rion  


She looked appraisingly at the man standing in front of her. He was tall, over 6' in her estimation, and, although he couldn't be described as brawny, she was strongly aware of the latent strength and power emanating from him –' 'tall, dark and handsome' may be a cliché but the description certainly fits him,' she thought.

"So my men found you in the grounds," she stated. "What were you doing there?"

"I was taking a stroll, I was lost," he replied.

He didn't look the kind of man who would let himself be captured easily, yet here he was standing before her, his hands tied behind his back and not a mark on him or on the security guards who had brought him in.

"Why did you allow my guards to capture you?" she asked.

He looked back at her and saw she was serious.

"It's hard to argue with a gun," he responded drily.

She nodded to herself, all the same she thought the guards had been lucky -he didn't look the type to be caught out often.

"So why were you in the grounds?" she asked again.

"I told you, I was out walking and got lost."

"We'll soon find out the truth for you, just give us a little time to work on him," said one of the guards impatiently.

She looked at the prisoner again - he showed no fear and, judging by the way he carried himself, the set of his jaw and his refusal to be cowed in spite of being bound and held at gun point, she thought their optimism was misplaced. She doubted very much that a 'little time' would make him yield the answers she sought. In fact she thought it unlikely that their crude methods would get results at all – no matter how long they had to work on him. She suspected it would take much more sophisticated methods to find even a chink in his armour. Still, no harm in letting her guards have their fun, it might soften him up a little and it would teach them the valuable lesson that you can't always beat the truth out of someone: on the other hand she had never liked violence for its own sake.

"What do you think," she asked the prisoner, "should I let my men work you over a little or would you prefer to talk to me?"

He looked back at her and his eyes clashed with hers,

'God, he's attractive, his eyes are fabulous- I've heard of 'come to bed eyes' but his - they practically throw you in!' she brushed away the stray thought and waited for a reply.

After a short time she realised he didn't know that she was asking a serious question and wasn't going to respond. She looked at the guards who were clearly eager to start beating up on him. She decided it would do them good to wait a little.

"I will talk to him alone first," she announced.

"Our methods will get results quicker," one of the guards stated flatly.

"Are you questioning my orders?" she asked quietly.

"No," he replied - with a trace of fear in his voice.

"Bind him to that chair," she commanded, pointing to a sturdy chair in the corner of the room.

The guards hurried to obey, pulling the chair to the centre of the room and securing him to it.

"Now leave us," she commanded.

"We'll be just outside the door."

Alone with her prisoner she looked down at him for a long time, she thought it unlikely he would break, even under extreme physical torture and wondered whether it was worth the time and trouble to question him. He looked back at her, his body taut, waiting for her to start on him. He considered snapping the ropes that bound him but the knowledge that the guards were just outside the door, ready to rush in and gun him down if she called them, stopped him from doing so. She continued to study him; once again she admired the set of his jaw and his handsome features. She looked at his mouth and eyes and wondered what it would be like to have met him under different circumstances, perhaps he would have smiled at her – how she would like to see him smile at her. Christ! What was wrong with her? She wasn't usually so affected by men, even men as handsome as he was. She needed to concentrate on the job in hand, remember that this one man could jeopardise the whole operation – so what if he was attractive? She'd met attractive men before it had never stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted.

'Charisma that's what they call it, 'she thought, 'and this man has it in spades'.

"I don't believe for one second that you just went for a walk and got lost. You were in my grounds for a reason and I want to know what you were doing, who sent you, who you were intending to report to and how much you know about what we are doing here."

He just looked at her; he clearly had no intention of answering her questions. His failure to respond angered her and she drove her fist into his face with her full body weight behind it. His head jerked back with the force of the blow and the chair rocked slightly. He blinked and licked his lips but otherwise gave no sign that he had been struck, even though she'd hit hard enough to crack his cheekbone. She raised her fist to strike him again, then let it drop by her side as her anger died and she realised the futility of her action. Sure, she could hurt him but she took no pleasure from hurting for the sake of it – she was prepared to use violence and pain as a method of extracting information but preferred more subtle methods. She couldn't remember the last time she'd hit out in anger and wasn't sure if she ever had until now. She wondered what it was about this particular man that had got under her skin so effectively. She knew she was wasting her time with this, had known it even before she gave the order for the guards to leave them alone.

'Why did I give that order?' she asked herself.

If she was honest she knew the answer, she'd wanted to keep this man with her a little longer, and she'd hoped to gain an insight into what it was about him that affected her so much. She didn't want to strike him again, the thought came into her mind that she would much rather be kissing him than hitting him. She turned her back on the thought – what was the matter with her today? He was just a man, and a man who could ruin all her carefully laid plans, she must not forget that. She considered her options for a moment then faced the truth: it didn't really matter what the answers to her questions were, someone was obviously suspicious of her and it didn't really matter who or why, it meant only one thing – she had to clear out and clear out fast before whoever had sent this man to investigate sent reinforcements. She thought it likely that the prisoner was from one of the secret services and wondered why he had been dispatched to investigate her small scheme.

"Why have they sent you to investigate?" she asked. "My scheme has no political ramifications…unless a certain country is about to switch allegiance," she added thoughtfully.

He didn't reply but the slight flash of surprise in his eyes gave her the answer.

She made up her mind quickly, she was going to leave immediately, start again. When she had been working on her idea the most enjoyable part, for her, had been the meticulous planning, the careful working out of all the variables. It would take time but she could concoct a new scheme – maybe even one on the right side of the law this time.

Once more she studied the man in the chair, and had a strange feeling that, if he wanted, he could flex his muscles and snap the cords which bound him. She half wished he could release himself and take her in his arms and kiss her passionately.

'Now you're being fanciful,' she told herself, if he could break free he'd make his escape without wasting time kissing her.

She wondered what to do about him now that she had decided to clear out. She didn't need to collect anything; all she needed to do was walk out the door. Starting afresh with a new identity would be easy, she had her escape route worked out, a new identity already established, planned long ago in case something like this should happen.

The feeling that he could break free, although she had dismissed it as fanciful, was strong enough to make her reluctant to leave him alone in this room – she didn't want him to come after her and prevent her escape.

'Although you do want him to come after you, for a quite different reason don't you?' a little voice said inside her head.

'Damn it!' she thought. 'I must concentrate.'

So, should she let the guards beat up on him while she escaped? It would be a wise precaution, she didn't want them with her now – they were no use to her, she would have to start fresh and didn't want to be encumbered with a set of guards whose loyalty might be shaken by this setback. She knew that at least two of them had already betrayed her – they had been chosen for their access to inside knowledge about the political situation in the country in question and they'd failed to inform her of the developments. They knew that the information would have caused her to abandon the scheme and she suspected pure greed had motivated them to keep her in the dark.

Once again she asked herself if she should let the guards loose on this man. Most, if not all, of them enjoyed inflicting violence on others and letting them rough him up would serve the twofold purpose of preventing the possibility of him following her while at the same time keeping the guards occupied while she made her get-away. On the other hand she was reluctant to leave this man to face the aggression of her guards; they were vicious and might even kill him. She didn't want his death on her conscience. She knew that, if she decided not to leave him to the guards, she would have to escape via the window so as to avoid passing them on her way out. She was aware of precious minutes ticking by, she wasn't sure why she had such a strong sense of urgency but she never ignored her intuition – the warning of danger it sometimes gave her was one of the reasons why she had remained free to work on her plans for so long.

She made up her mind, crossed the room and selected a golf club from a bag in the corner of the room. She walked back to the man in the chair. He looked up at her and steeled himself for the expected blow from the club she held in her hand.

"I have no desire to trigger an international incident so I'm clearing out and going to start fresh. I'm not going to let the guards loose on you, I can spare you that and I will. If we ever meet again maybe we'll even be on the same side, who knows? For now I want to leave you with something to remember me by," she said.

He expected a blow from the club but, instead, she dropped to her knees beside him and kissed him passionately on the mouth. With a slight shock of surprise he found himself responding, his body stirring with the beginnings of desire for her. When he thought about it afterwards he understood why – she wasn't conventionally attractive but she carried herself with an air of confidence and seemed totally comfortable with who and what she was. She was clearly intelligent and he was impressed by her quick grasp of the situation, the way she had sized him up and her accurate deduction about the political situation. Her willingness to face reality and let her scheme go was remarkable. Also, although she had shown that single flash of anger when she had hit him, she seemed to hold no grudge against him for thwarting her plans - her unwillingness to let the guards loose on him testified to that; this made her different from the usual class of criminal he had come up against. In that moment he wanted very much to put his arms around her, to pull her close; he debated whether he should break the cords that bound him to the chair. He flexed his muscles experimentally. She drew back and looked into his eyes and saw a hint of a smile in them. Such beautiful eyes, she felt almost mesmerised by them.

'Oh God,' she thought, 'I have to get out NOW'.

She walked behind him, raised the club and tapped him on the back of his head with it. As he sank into unconsciousness he heard her open the window to climb out and make her escape. The last thing he was aware of before he blacked out were the whispered words:

"I'm sorry but I can't risk you following me," and, almost under her breath, spoken so low that only someone with his exceptional hearing could catch, "Au revoir."

A short time later he regained consciousness and sensed his two friends close by. They walked into the room just as he stood up, having released himself from the cords that bound him.

"The guards?" he asked.

"All rounded up, the only person we didn't get was the woman but that's not important any more. The scheme is in ruins, it'll never be carried out now. It's all over, case closed and we've been recalled," they told him. "Unless of course you want to do a little unofficial investigation, see if you can track down the woman and bring her to justice – you do have some leave due."

"No," he replied, "no need to search for her now, it's over. Anyway I've a hunch we may run into her again someday."

He thought about the whispered "Au revoir" and the 'something to remember her by'. A tiny smile flickered across his face as he touched his lips with his fingers.


End file.
